


One For The Ages

by ewya_barnes1114



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cutesy, Fluffy Ending, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 08:05:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12979713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ewya_barnes1114/pseuds/ewya_barnes1114
Summary: Sherlock x Reader.Imagine you, Sherlock and the gang going out to get the perfect Christmas tree.





	One For The Ages

You had decided to meet at the Holmes family home. They were out in the country and “all the best tree farms are out here.” you recalled Mrs. Holmes saying when you called her.  
So far it was you, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Tom, your uncle Lestrade, John and Mary. Just two contenders left. You followed behind John and Mary into the cozy home, marveling at the decorations. Mr. Holmes shook John’s hand while Mrs. Holmes greeted Mary with a hug and kiss on the cheek. Her attention turns to you now.  
“Who’s this? Did Sherlock finally bring someone home?” She asked, eyes twinkling.  
Mycroft scoff laughed while Sherlock groaned, turning away and ruffling his hair in irritation.  
You clear your throat and put your best smile on, trying to disguise the all-too-incorrect statement from appearing on your face that “Sherlock had brought someone home” from the maddeningly perceptive detective.  
“No, I’m just a friend. I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N. It’s nice to meet you.”  
“Ah, well. Always nice to meet a friend of Sherlock’s.” She said, beaming.  
You didn’t notice Sherlock staring at you, having heard the waver in your voice you were trying to hide.  
Mycroft looked to his younger brother, clearing his throat, Sherlock averting his eyes.  
You took a deep breath before you turned your attention to Mycroft.  
“So, Minecraft, are you coming with us?”  
He stiffened instantly, looking side to side before his eyes trained on you, a wide-eyed stare from beneath his lids, a disapproving scowl plastered to his lips.  
“Aside from the abhorrent, gross misuse of my name, nothing would repulse me more.”  
Your hands went to your hips the same time Mrs. Holmes did, both stomping your foot.  
“Mycroft Siger Holmes, you are coming!”  
“Mycroft Siger Holmes, you are going!”  
Mycroft’s face was stricken with the biggest lock of surprise any of us had ever seen him have, the looking dominoing around the room.  
John stuck a finger in his ear, wiggling it around a bit.  
“Is there an echo in here?” He asked with a chuckle.  
Mary covered her mouth, stifling a laugh. Sherlock looked like a deer caught in the headlights, mouth open a fraction before tossing a look to you, a wide smile breaking out on his face as he chuckled. Mr. Holmes couldn’t help the raucous laughter that fell from his mouth. Leaning into Mycroft he said, “Better do as she says, lad.”  
“Which one?” Came Mycroft’s reply.  
Mr. Holmes looked between you and Mrs. Holmes and said, “Both.”  
Mycroft looked from you to his mother, clearing his throat.  
“O-of course. How could I refuse?”  
“Atta boy.” You said, tapping him on the shoulder.  
“Oh, it’s not so bad Mikey. It’ll do you some good to get out in the fresh air. Who knows…maybe you’ll even have fun.”  
He faked a smile, quickly dropping it to his resting bitch face expression.  
Mrs. Holmes was giving you the directions to the tree farm when three black cars pulled up, courtesy of Mycroft.  
You, John and Mary got into the first car where you gave the direction to the driver. You had settled back in your seat when John just burst.  
“Oh, my God. That was brilliant.”  
Mary burst out laughing, raising her hand to give you a high-five.  
“I’ve never seen him look so utterly speechless and dumbfounded. Well done!” John continued to beam. You listened to John and Mary make small talk during the 10 minute drive. You were eager to get out of the car and smell the pine of the trees, taking a moment and having a nice deep breath once you got there.  
Mycroft and Sherlock stood at the back of the group, leaning in to whisper to his brother.  
“Not a word. Ever. The scandal of being in the snow, looking for a tree for God’s sake.”  
Sherlock smiled. “Come now, brother dear. It’s Christmas!”  
Sherlock followed you with his eyes, watching you run your fingers along the thistles, the sun shining on the snow, brightening your face. He forgot how to breathe when you turned your face into the sun, tucking a loose stand of hair back against your ear. Lestrade joined you then.  
“This is great! I haven’t done this since I was a lad! Have you found one yet?”  
“Not yet. I miss doing this too. We should make this a yearly tradition.”  
Something made your ears perk up in alarm, ducking just in time to see a snowball hit Greg in the face. Mary and John were nearby nearly falling over themselves with laughter. Greg leaned down to pick up a snowball and tossed it at John, who blocked it with his arm. It soon turned into a tactical fight of snowballs between John and Greg, each hiding behind a tree looking for the opportune time to pelt each other.  
The decision to make teams was unamious: three on three, guys versus girls. Sherlock and Mycroft standing back, Sherlock’s black coat standing stark against the white powder.  
“How childish.”  
Sherlock listened to everything, your laughter sticking out the loudest, followed by Greg and John’s “Oi!”  
You and John snuck around back behind Mycroft and Sherlock, each carrying a few snowballs. You looked to each other, silently mouthing, “3, 2, 1.” and let them rip, each hitting their intended targets.  
Sherlock saw Mycroft get his before he did, the wide smile disappearing on his face when he felt a snowball hit him.  
The brothers turned to look at you and John as you scurried back to your previous posts, Mycroft’s expression murderous. Sherlock had an unreadable look on his face, looking directly at you. Your breath hitched in your throat, trying to contact the panic building inside you.  
‘Oh, shit. What if he is upset?’ You thought to youself.  
A snowball to your arm spurred you from your thoughts.  
“Gotcha!” Greg yelled.  
You turned back to see Sherlock was holding a good sized snowball, tossing it up and down in the air, a mischevious smile on his face. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, but then as he side looking at Mycroft, you knew what he was going to do.  
Feeling his brother looking at him, Mycroft looked to Sherlock then down to the snowball, horror overtaking his features.  
“Sherlock…don’t.”  
Sherlock got that shit-eating grin on his face as Mycroft started to back up. “No…”  
“Yes.”  
“No!”  
“Yes!”  
“Don’t you dare through that snowball at me. They’ll be hell to pay.”  
“I look forward to it.” Sherlock said as he wound up his arm, ready to throw it the second his elder brother tried to run. He got his chance a few seconds later, hitting him square in the middle of the back.  
You marveled at how happy Sherlock looked. You didn’t think you had ever seen him this happy when it didn’t involve a case. You were laughing hysterically at Sherlock hitting Mycroft with a snowball, who looked like he was seething. You began to walk over to Mycroft to calm things down when cold hit you in the face. You stopped, sucking in air and after moving the snow out of your eyes, you saw Mycroft still bent over from the throw. You were shocked, not expecting him to partake in the snowball fight.  
Suddenly, Greg appeared out of nowhere, matrix style falling in front of you, throwing a snowball at Sherlock , who ran behind the trees. Mycroft went the other way, gathering snow in his arms.  
You stood there, warmed by the sun, filled with the laughter of your friends’ pure joy and happiness, a smile coating your lips at the peace you felt. The stress and worry of the morrow gone for the moment. 

You’d finally found the particular tree among the snowball fight. Sherlock had grabbed your hand, shielding you and him from an incoming snowball with his coat and pulled you away from the group to show it to you.  
“It’s perfect! Good eye!” You said, running your fingers through the bristles and inhaling the scent of the tree.  
“Oi! We’re heading back!” John yelled.  
“Coming!” You yelled back.  
When you turned, Sherlock was gone. A worker walked up a few seconds later confirming that that was the tree you wanted cut down. 

When you all got back to the Holmes house, Mrs. Holmes had hot coca waiting. She laughed when you walked in at seeing everyone covered in snow. Her jaw nearly hit the floor when Mycroft and Sherlock walked in laughing with and playfully shoving each other. She turned to you, tears in her eyes, whispering to you when they’d gone into the other room.  
“Thank you. I haven’t seen them like that in years. You are something special, aren’t you?”  
You smiled and blushed. “It’s the country air.”  
“Oh! She’s a beaut!” Mr. Holmes exclaimed, looking at the tree from the window. “Well done!”  
“Sherlock found it, actually.” You offered, looking to him with a smile. He met your eyes, giving a quick smile back before averting his eyes.  
“He would be crazy to pass you up, dear.” Mrs. Holmes said suddenly, tearing your eyes away from Sherlock.  
“I think I shall give him a right talking to.”  
“Oh, no. That’s really not necessary.”  
“That boy can be so dense sometimes. Sometimes he just…needs a little nudge.”  
After you had all warmed up, you gathered your things to head home to get ready for the Christmas party that night.  
“Are you coming tonight, Mycroft?”  
“Oh, no. Today was enough for me.”  
You clicked your tongue. “Party pooper. Merry Christmas, Mycroft.”  
“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

Mycroft waited until you had left to join Sherlock outside for a cigarette. A silence lay between them before Mycroft found his voice, breathing in deeply before speaking.  
“A bit of advice, brother mine…”  
He waited until Sherlock looking at him.  
“Don’t wait.”

You had arrived a little bit early for the party to help finish decorating the tree and setting up the last of the decorations. Mrs. Hudson clicked her tongue as a wreath kept falling down.  
“Dear me…”  
I’ve got it, Mrs. Hudson. You sit and rest.”  
“Thank you, dear.”  
You grabbed a five-step ladder that Mrs. Hudson had brought up for you to use to hang up with higher decorations  
“Be mindful of that stool, dear. It has a tendency to wobble.”  
“I’ll be careful.”  
“Two steps to the left says otherwise.” Sherlock mumbled.  
You ignored him and went to the top step to get a better vantage point when your balance was starting to feel off. You didn’t hear Sherlock counting down under his from breath from three to one before coming to stand underneath you, arms held out, just as the ladder collapsed from under you.  
“Shit!”  
You immediately began to think of all the ways to land so you wouldn’t be hurt too badly. All eyes were on you, but before they could move to catch you, you landed in Sherlock’s arms.  
“Oof!”  
He had caught you bridal style, knees bending to compensate for the weight, standing straight once they’d steadied.  
“I told you.” He said in a bored tone.  
“Two steps to the left?”  
“Two steps to the left.”  
“Shut up.”  
You blushed as he set you down, smoothing out your dress.  
“Thank you.”  
He flashed one of those killer smiles, turning the bones in your legs to mush. Sherlock turned back to mingle as you made your way to the kitchen on wobbly legs.  
“Oh, Y/N! It looks lovely!” Mrs. Hudson cried happily.  
Grabbing yourself a cuppa, you made your way to a seat by the window, looking out at the snow falling on the quiet street. You heard Sherlock playing “We Wish You A Merry Christmas” on the violin and closed your eyes. When he’d finished playing and started mingling again, you sat there still, hearing “Silent Night” by Pentatonix come on the radio.  
You couldn’t resist singing along as it was on your favourite Christmas songs. It was quiet but Greg heard the radio first then faintly heard you singing along. You were so focused on the outside world, you didn’t notice he had quieted the whole room and whisper, “You’re in a for a real treat, this.”  
You had closed your eyes, not noticing the four pairs of eyes on you reflected in the window. Sherlock is mesmerized and deftly grabs for his violin and waited for the second verse to start.  
When you heard the violin start, your eyes shot open and you looked directed to Sherlock. His eyes darted to Greg and you directed a “Really?” gaze his way. He shrugged his shoulders in response.  
You and Sherlock were eye-locked through the whole song. John looked between the two of you before it dawned on him. He looked to Mary who had grabbed his arm, biting her lip trying to hold back tears. Mrs. Hudson was a mess, leaning against Greg for support. Your uncle himself was having a hard time keeping it together as well.  
When the song ended, you and Sherlock stayed glued to each others’ eyes, the room so quiet, you could hear a heartbeat.  
John finally couldn’t bear it any longer and cleared his throat, spurring Sherlock from his throat.  
“Yes, well…that was very good.” He said, blinking rapidly several times, giving a nervous smile and tugging down his suit jacket before walking down the hallway to his room.  
“That was lovely, Y/N.”  
“Gregory Lestrade…” You said in a warning tone.  
“It’s Christmas and you never sing anymore.”  
“And Sherlock? Was he in on it too?”  
“No, dear. He did that on his own.” Mrs. Hudson offered.  
“I see. Welp…that’s enough embarrassment for one night!” You laughed.  
“Oh, stop! You were wonderful!” Mary said.  
When you turned away, Mary turned and gave John a look that said, “You saw what I saw, right?!”  
You grabbed your coat and went outside to cool off and to have a cigarette to calm your nerves. Leaning against the siding of 221B Baker Street, you closed your eyes, savouring the feel of the tobacco as it swam through your lungs, before blowing it out in a perfect stream.  
As you opened the door, you nearly jumped at seeing Sherlock standing there.  
“Oh, Christ Sherlock! You scared me!”  
He smiled, but didn’t move so you tried to fit around him into the doorway. Something out of the corner of your eye made you glance up at the lintel. You blew out a breath of air with a chuckle.  
“Mistletoe…”  
Sherlock glanced up, both of you bringing your heads down to look at each other. You steeled yourself, not even bothering to try to ask for the customary kiss so you stuck your hand out for a hand shake instead.  
“Merry Christmas, Sherlock.”  
He looked to your hand than to you, surprising you completely when he cupped your head in his large hands and closed the distance between you. His lips offered instant electricity, like tasting a forbidden fruit. Your hands instinctively came up to rest on his neck, the other on his cheek as you deepened the kiss.  
When you broke away, your foreheads lingered together. Sherlock’s eyes were closed, trying to regain his breathing. He finally stood up straight, smiling down at you.  
“Merry Christmas, Y/F/N Y/L/N.”  
“Merry Christmas, Sherlock Holmes.”


End file.
